Go back to sleep.

Time to do some cleaning around the apartment. She feels this is going to keep her . . . busy.

Why?

Her apartment is quiet these days. She brings home meals, then cleans up in the mornings. She ponders on buying a bottle of wine. It would be easy enough to acquire. Yes. Wine and a night out. It would be good for her.

". . . . . . I've never been in this part of the city before. Interesting."

A soft sigh, fingers moving through silken hair. Another new face to wear, another mask to shelter herself behind.

"Mrm. Rain today. Everything is going to be terribly foggy. Perhaps I should grab a bit to eat . . . " It has been a while since she had an Englishman for dinner anyway. Takeout gets boring after a while.

It's pouring down, the rain beating down on the streets like war drums. She steps through the hazy grey rain and the cool fog, her hair soaked to the root and her clothes drenched. Cold, but it is a comforting cold as she moves through the streets.

A click of her tongue. Another little party with the rich and powerful. Another little gathering where people will try to garner the attention of the muse. Try and fail. Though she does think about bringing someone home for dinner . . .

A glass of whiskey cleans the sour taste out of her mouth. She simply asks for the bottle, the bartender placing it on the counter without complaint. Tonight is going to be a drinking night.

She's paused in her drinking only to head outside the bar. A cigarette is lit up, a rare thing for the muse to do. A pull on the cigarette, followed by a sharp exhale.

"Mrm. Let's see . . . no . . . no . . . hrm." She scrolls through a list of addresses, each one crossed off as she passes by it.

"Another musician? Interesting."

You and I have business to discuss.